


France Vs. The Lice

by Lady_Death_of_Nevada



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, lice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Death_of_Nevada/pseuds/Lady_Death_of_Nevada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this story, France may or may not have gotten lice in his beautiful hair. Read to find out. Hints at and beginnings of boy/boy or yaoi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	France Vs. The Lice

World Meetings are possibly the most boring waste of time. Ever. Listening to Germany’s monotonous voice and Amerique’s loud, obnoxious voice for five minutes could give anyone a headache, but for two and a half hours? I wanted to die. But at least I had mon Angleterre. As Japan continued his rambling, Arthur and I played footsy under the table. I reached up, scratching my head to relieve myself of an itch. That one spot had been bothering me all day. As I continued to madly scratch at the spot among my gorgeous blonde hair, Germany cleared his throat.

 

“And that concludes our meeting,” I, along with almost everyone else in the room, breathed a sigh of relief, “But before you leave, I have an important announcement to make. As many of you have noticed, Italy wasn’t able to join us today. This is due to the fact that he has come down with a case of head lice,” I froze mid scratch. No, “He comes in close contact with most of you on a regular basis, so I’d like to advise you to check and make sure that none of you have any as well,” Germany scratched at his own head. Just as I’d been. Merde, no, it’s not possible, “On that note, no more meetings will be held until we are sure nobody has head lice. If you come to find that you do have them, please contact me for help with getting rid of them,” And he returned to his seat and began to gather up his things.

 

I sat there, frozen with fear and dread as I slowly turned my head, making eye contact with mon amour, who had the same look on his face. Almost simultaneously, we jumped up, grabbing our things, and walked out the door, meeting in the hall and continuing out onto the sidewalk. Thankfully, this meeting had taken place in London, so we'd been able to drive to the World Meeting from our home. We rushed into the parking lot and got into Arthur’s car, where we drove into the street, entering traffic. We sat in the car in silence for a little bit before I decided to break the silence.  
“Arthur,” I began at the same time as Arthur had said,

 

“Francis,” I was about to tell him to continue when he went ahead anyways,

“I watched you scratch your head the entire meeting," My frown grew.  
“Oui, je sais. I know.” Silence.

“You know we’re going to have to check just in case, right?” He spoke up.  
“Oui,” I sighed dismally as he made a right into Alliance Boots, where we went for our medicine whenever we were in Arthur’s home.

 

~O~o~O~

 

With all of the necessary things for head lice inspection (and if necessary, killing), we went up to our bedroom, where, after taking off my shirt (you should’ve seen Angleterre checking me out) and wrapping a towel around myself, I went into our bathroom and sat on a stool so that Arthur could check me out. He took his comb and began to part my hair.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked nervously.

“Of course I do! America got them all the time when he was little, I’m a pro at this by now,” He carefully brought the comb through my hair. It would've felt really nice and soothing had I not been so nervous. I heard him humph, "That looks like something," he said to himself, making my breath catch in my throat, "But it could just be some dirt," Merde. It couldn't be dirt, I have the cleanest hair of anyone. But it couldn't be lice either, right? He continued to run the comb through my locks, "Damn. There's another one. But I can't be sure, they're so damn small," He pondered aloud once more. My heartbeat quickened.

 

'Non. Non non non non non shit merde this can't be happening' I thought to myself. My vision began to go foggy as my head spun and my eyes twitched uncontrollably, "Arthur? Mon amour, I don't feel so good," 

 

"Oh man up. I'm not even sure if you have them or not," He replied. He continued his combing, "And another one," He muttered. But this time his voice was muffled. He kept talking, but I couldn't make out a word of what he said. I felt trés mal, like I was about to barf, and went into a cold sweat.   
"Arthur, s'il tu plait, I feel sick, can I please just lie down," I begged, barely able to open my mouth without vomiting. 

 

"Stop it, you bloody drama queen." His voice was suddenly loud and clear, suddenly changing to an empty buzzing. The twitching persisted, getting worse as I entered a hot-cold flash. 

 

"Arthur, please!" I screamed, my eyes squeezing shut as the result of yet another twitch.

 

"Francis. Francis?" I opened my eyes from the twitch to see Arthur kneeling over me, obviously not amused. My head rang and my vision was foggy but I was able to see that I was on the floor at the end of our bed. I sat up sharply, quickly falling back down as a result of a pounding headache. 

 

"Arthur? Where am I?" I asked.

 

"Oh knock it off, Francis," My eyes began to water. I was so scared.  
"Arthur, Arthur, I'm serious. How'd I get here? Wasn't I just in the bathroom?" A few stray tears streamed down my face, and Arthur frowned with pity, worry, and affection.

 

"You really can't remember?" He requested. I shook my head. He sighed, "Poor thing," and pulled my head to his chest, where he ran his hand over my head soothingly, "What do you last remember?" 

 

"I-I was in the bathroom and I was asking you to let me go and lie down," I answered. 

 

"Well, after you yelled at me for about the fifth time, I finally let you get up. I stayed in the bathroom and rinsed off the comb when I heard a bang, and when I walked in you were on the floor. I figured you were just faking though, you know how dramatic you can be," He told me. I sniffled, nodding into his chest, and relaxing, staying there on the ground in my love's arms until he loosened his grip on me, pulling me away from himself and placing a gentle, sweet kiss on my forehead. He leaned away, "So, do you think we can finish now?" 

 

"Only if you stop talking about what may or may not have infested my beautiful hair," I replied. He chuckled.

 

"Yeah, I've learned my lesson," And stood up, offering me a hand and helping me up. I walked back into the bathroom, still shaking a bit from fainting, and sat back on the stool. Mon cher took a bottle and poured a huge glob of some gel hint into his hand, before rubbing it into my hair. I flinched. It was so cold and, surprisingly, greasy.

 

"Mon ange, this isn't really necessary, is it?" I asked uncomfortably. The stuff felt horrible in my hair. Arthur paused.

 

"What is it now?" He insisted, an air of annoyance in his voice. 

 

"Well, it's just, this stuff must be horrible for my hair, so there's no way it's actually necessary," I quickly explained.

 

"Would you rather have this in your hair or bugs and their eggs?" He snapped, shutting me up. He sighed again, continuing to gently massage he substance into my mane, "I'm sorry. It's just you can really be a pain in the arse sometimes, you know?" I laughed.

 

"Oui, je sais, I'm sorry, too," He smiled.

 

"You know, I'd kiss you if you didn't have this disgusting ooze all over you," I squirmed.

 

"Stop it, you meany!" He chuckled a bit before returning to his job.

 

~0~o~0~

 

"Done," Arthur informed me after about three hours. I breathed a sigh of relief, stretching.

 

"Finally!" I turned to him, before slowly asking, "So, the verdict?" 

 

"You've got 'em," He told me carefully, sympathetically. My head dropped to my hands.

 

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed (or at least that's how it seemed to me). Angleterre rolled his eyes.

 

"Do you really think I would've stood here for hours, doing this if you didn't have it?" He asked.

 

"True, true," I frowned, "So what do we have to do?" 

 

"Well, first, you have to go to the sink so that I can get this stuff out of your hair," He scooted both myself and my seat over to the sink, bending back my head and running warm water over my scalp, rubbing it to help the goop come out, "We'll have to clean our bedding every night, all of it, and wash it; we'll have to wash everything that's been in your hair for the past month-" 

 

"Even my hair ribbons!?" I shrieked. He rolled his eyes again.

 

"Have they been in your hair? We'll have to throw out all our combs and hair brushes, and we'll have to do this every night," He paused, "And about that. It takes a very long time to do this with your long hair, so...we'll have to cut it,"

 

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?????" I screamed, jumping up and putting my hands protectively over my hair, my face contorted in shock and disgust, "NO! You CANNOT cut my hair!" He walked over to me, slapping me across the face before bringing me into a tight hug. 

 

"I know you care about your hair, believe me I'm gonna miss it too, but its got to go," I dug my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent of burnt scones and roses. 

 

"You probably shouldn't put your head so close to mine," I told him, moving to lean away, but he held my head down, squeezing me tighter.

 

"Oh please. I sleep with you every night, frog, I'm pretty sure I've already got it," He reasoned.

 

"Désolé," 

 

"It's fine," He took a deep breath, sighed loudly, and leaned away from me slightly so that his lips could meet mine, and he kissed me with so much passion and care that it was almost overwhelming. I kissed him back, letting out all of my frustrations at the damned insects that had chosen to inhabit my head, and turning it into love, pouring it into the fiery kiss. Lust began to overwhelm my senses as I wrapped my arms around mon amour's waist, rubbing and finally grabbing his derrière. He moaned wantonly, allowing me to enter my tongue into his mouth and explore his cavern. His tongue rolled over mine, fighting for dominance and nearly winning, but finally giving up and just enjoying himself. He moved his fingers through my hair, tugging here and there and earning a groan from myself. 

 

I pulled him closer, grinding my hips and pelvis against his and hearing a most delicious batch of moans as Arthur removed his mouth from mine, moving his lips to my neck and sucking playfully, biting every so often, causing me to let out a shriek of pleasure as I threw back my head, arching my back a bit and leaning further into mon Angleterre. I'd had enough.   
I threw mon cher onto the bed, climbing on top of him and giving him a primal look of want, before diving in and attacking his lips while simultaneously tearing open his shirt and twirling his rock hard nipples between my skilled fingers. He looked like he was in pure bliss, but he shakily raised his hand, pushing on my cheek. 

 

"Francis," He spoke breathlessly, and mon dieu was it fucking hot, "I can't do this now, I need to change the sheets and cut your hair," I leaned down, brushing my lips against his ear and feeling him shiver, 

 

"Exactement. You have to change the sheets anyways," I whispered gruffly into his ear. He leaned up to my own ear, before he swiftly rolled us over, and, with another grind of his hips into mine, he whispered,

 

"Only if I get to top," That would do.

 

~O~o~O~

 

We laid there, panting after our escapade, before Arthur pushed himself up and, still shaking from his orgasm, crossed the room to put on some boxers.  
"Francis, get up," He called, "I have to change the sheets," 

 

"Do you have to?" I whined, too tired to get up.

 

"You're lying in cum and lice, so yes," The lice comment made me jump up off of the bed, so I walked over to where Arthur was standing and put on my own boxers. He walked back over to the bed, still a bit shaky, and tore off the blankets, sheets, and pillow cases, before venturing into the hallway and, I supposed, the washroom, "Put some fresh linens on the bed, would you?" 

 

"Oui," I called back. I went to the closet, pulling out all of the necessary things and dressing the bed carefully. I heard the hum of the washer from the other room, followed by the footsteps of my lover. 

 

"Where's your brush?" He asked. I nodded my head in its direction, which Angleterre followed and, upon reaching the brush, promptly threw it in the trash, "I'll go out and buy another tomorrow," He informed me, seeing the not-so pleased look on my face, "Now, come on! It's time to get rid of all of your hair!" He beckoned to me from the bathroom. I frowned, turning and looking at myself in the mirror. I stumbled towards it, facing it and fingering my hair. 

 

I stared for a few moments, before coming to my conclusion and grabbing my phone. I turned on the camera, and smiling into it, tapped the button on the touch screen, capturing the last moment of myself with my beautiful, flowing, golden locks. I placed down my phone, took in a deep breath, and hesitantly walked into the bathroom, joining mon ange and sitting down in front of him, where he stood with scissors in hand. 

 

"Your hair's already damp, right?"

 

"Oui," And he dug in, snipping here, cutting there, and all of my hair pooling around my feet, "You know, I never knew you could cut hair. Or rather, that you could cut hair well," 

 

"Who do you think cut America's hair?" He insisted

 

"So that would explain why his hair always looked so bad." I chuckled.

 

"If I were you I wouldn't talk to the person cutting your hair like that," He snapped.

 

"Oui, oui, désolé," I spoke hurriedly. 

 

"I was only kidding, Francis, no need to be so on edge," He assured me,

 

"You never know with you mon cher," I smiled. He cut a few last times before stepping away and looking at his work.

 

"Done. Look for yourself, tell me what you think," I stood up and walked over to the mirror. Taking a deep breath, I finally peered into the mirror, gasping. My hair was short, cut close to my head, but not so short that it looked bad. In fact it didn't look bad, just...different. New. I turned to mon amour who had an expectant look on his face. I grinned.

 

"It's wonderful. Merci," I walked over, kissing him chastely on the lips. He pulled away, looking me over and smiling devilishly. 

 

"I think that we're both overdue for a shower, love," My grin grew as I quirked my eyebrows at him.

 

"I must say that I agree, Arthur," I replied, wrapping my hands around his neck and pulling his lips back to mine, this time much less chastely. He made noises of pleasure as I quickly pulled away.

 

"Are you sure you're up for another round?" I asked. He gave me a look. That look. That beyond sexy, 'hell yes' look.

 

"Shut the fuck up, frog," He smiled, pulling me back to him. I might've had lice, but right now, nothing could've been better.

 

OoO

 

Hey, guys! So basically, my sister got lice fairly recently and that've them to me. Unfortunately, I am deathly afraid of bugs. Especially creepy ass ones like lice. So yes, I fainted upon hearing that I had them. They're gone now, thankfully. But at least I got a story out of it. 

I don't want to be one of those authors that begs for reviews, but please, if it sucked, which it probably did, at least tell me what was bad about it. That way next time a story is posted it'll be even better.


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